


How You See Me, How You Don't

by FictionAddiction23



Category: One Piece
Genre: Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Blind Character, Caught, Emotions, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Invisibility, Love Confessions, M/M, Original Character(s), Pining Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro and Vinsmoke Sanji Bickering, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionAddiction23/pseuds/FictionAddiction23
Summary: When the cook and the swordsman meet a new Devil Fruit user who can see emotional bonds, the strength of their secret relationship is tested. Do they love each other enough to admit it, even to themselves?
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 10
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

Zoro didn’t like to admit it, but he thought that Sanji was a better person than him.

Deep down, there was something so fundamentally good about the other man that the swordsman couldn’t help but notice how he paled in comparison. 

He had never been particularly skilled at caring about others—not like that idiot-cook who had made it his life’s calling to take care of pretty much everyone besides himself. (That damn chimney, always smoking-out his own lungs—a fucking disgusting habit if there ever was one.)

Sanji was rash, rude, abrasive, and tedious at times due to his fiery personality, but he was far from a bad person.

In fact, he was probably Zoro’s favourite person. 

They were an inseparable pair—the cook and the swordsman—Blackleg Sanji and Roronoa Zoro. With whatever names they went by, having walked different paths in life, they had eventually been brought together on this crew. 

There wasn’t a single soul who knew how close they had really become since Luffy had recruited each of them to join in his seafaring adventure, and Zoro was happy to keep it that way. Even though he believed that no good thing could last forever, secrecy certainly helped to maintain the unique relationship they had between them. 

If they were ever discovered, the swordsman imagined that Sanji would end this shameful affair right then and there—he wouldn’t want his perfect, gentlemanly image to be compromised, after all. 

The Strawhat’s super-suave, ass-kicking, heartthrob of a golden-boy would never willingly admit to shagging the second-rate swordsman who showered once a week (since rinsing off in the ocean apparently didn’t count). 

That would be utterly scandalous!

Instead, Sanji preferred to be as irritable and argumentative as possible whenever he was around Zoro. It was only when they were truly alone that they could drop the act in its entirety—they would speak freely and be completely themselves. Behind closed doors, there was never any need to pretend that they didn’t care for one another.

By contrast, today had been one of those days where the cook and the swordsman were exhibiting their worst selves—hiding behind the safety of tired insults and grumbled complaints under their breath. Since Nami had asked them (demanded, rather) to “Stop arguing like a married couple and go buy the damn supplies!” and the shitty-cook felt like it was his responsibility to answer her every waking whim, Zoro had ended up playing the role of pack-mule again.

The swordsman was fine with this arrangement since it meant that he got to walk behind the cook and stare at his ass while they shopped. 

He was thinking about how the cheeks visibly clenched in excitement as Sanji spotted a lovely, young woman at her booth of exotic wares when, quite suddenly, a bird landed on Zoro’s right shoulder. 

It was a smallish type of bird with bright, pure-white feathers, a handsomely curved beak, and an obnoxiously tall golden plume coming out of its head. Zoro was not a stranger to animal behaviour, nor was he especially startled by its appearance, but it did seem rather odd that the bird looked him in the eye, screeched insistently in his ear, and then flew to the top of his head where it hopped in place as though it had something important to personally convey to the green-haired man.

“Oi, bird-brain? Did you finally find someone on your intellectual level to hang-out with?” Sanji called back, laughing hysterically at the sight of the swordsman trudging along behind him, various packages in hand, with the chirping nuisance dancing purposefully on the spot. “I guess that moss looks more like a nest than a human head, Marimo!” he chortled with a patronizing wink. 

The cook’s attention was immediately drawn to the island maiden who was now approaching them with hasty steps. Zoro may as well have been a stone for all the attention Sanji paid him when there was a female in the vicinity.

Not that he was bitter about it (or so he told himself). 

The swordsman was used to this sort of behaviour by now. He had never expected the other man to treat him any better or worse since they had starting fucking at every given opportunity—in the dark of the night, behind locked doors or in remote locations, and generally in near-silence. 

He still rolled his eyes when Sanji broke into his love-struck monologues, though.

“Why hello, Miss! I do apologize for not perusing your beautiful booth—my crew-mate and I were in a bit of a hurry to finish our errands before our ship sets sail this afternoon—please forgive my rudeness, I’m sure a hard-working lady such as yourself has many valuable items, but alas, we are simply poor pirates on a short leg of our long-winded journey!” he announced regretfully, and then because she was looking at him with incredible intensity and handing him a small object with the expectation that he would take it, the cook added, “My sincerest apologies, it seems that we already spent the allotted funds on next month’s supplies!”  
  
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she told him in a musical voice, “but please, I made this for you.”

“Oh—for me?” Sanji clarified incredulously, seeming over-the-moon that this random beauty had chosen to single him out for a gift. The girl nodded emphatically, slipping what appeared to be a beaded bracelet onto the cook’s free hand (he was politely holding his lit cigarette away from her face with the other). “My goodness, it’s quite...pretty,” he said politely.

Zoro had refrained from commenting because the bird atop his head had ceased its chirping and was now pecking at his scalp, which was more concerning than the stupid-cook’s flirtations, until the young woman looked to the swordsman and said, “Actually, he should get the credit for choosing those beads from a special selection of precious gemstones that I collected on the island.”

“Eh?” Zoro grunted confusedly until he realized that she was talking about the bird and not him. “This annoying animal is yours?” he asked her, receiving a particularly sharp peck. “Ow!”

The girl laughed cutely and adjusted the crown of twigs and flowers on her own head before letting out a quick whistle that seemed to call the bird back to her. It took off from its perch on the swordsman and made itself comfortable in her hair which was the color of polished mahogany. 

“He isn’t mine, really, but I call him Frigg, and he’s my best friend in the world! I found him abandoned as a baby and have been taking are of him ever since. He also acts as my eyes,” she explained serenely, turning her face back towards Zoro. He got the feeling that she was looking through him rather than at him and realized that the girl must be blind.

“You can actually see through that bird?!” the swordsman asked in disbelief, causing Sanji to bristle in agitation at his gruff tone in the presence of a lady. The woman herself simply offered him a kind smile. She took a few steps towards him, training her eyes in the general direction of Zoro’s face.

“I’ve been totally blind ever since I was born, but I acquired a unique sixth sense in my youth. My bond with Frigg makes it easier for me to use that ability,” she explained, reaching out to tie a second bracelet around one of Zoro’s occupied hands without waiting for his permission. 

Jewellery wasn’t really the swordsman’s thing—he only wore three gold earrings that held a specific meaning to him—but he thought it would be incredibly rude to refuse her gift, and he didn’t want to piss-off the cook too much when he was hoping to convince the blond to stop someplace discreet for a quickie before heading back to the ship.

“How interesting! What sort of ability are you able to use, my sweet flower?” the cook inquired with genuine interest. 

He was practically fawning over this beautiful girl with her long, flowing hair and dress made out of yellow, silk-like fabrics that shimmered when she moved—Zoro thought that the woman looked like some sort of elf or forest spirit. Her beauty was near-inhuman, and her gaze, though slightly unfocused at times, was quite captivating even to the swordsman who only had eyes for Sanji.

“My name is Cynthia,” she introduced herself with another sweet smile, “and I’m able to see emotional bonds,” she revealed.

“Emotional b-bonds you say? Wh-whatever do you mean by that?!” the cook stammered.  
He was starting to become visibly anxious because beautiful Cynthia had singled out both men by giving them matching bracelets. The cook would never accuse a woman of lying, however, and simply took her word for it. Zoro held in an amused chuckle since laughing in front of Sanji would certainly be the end of his hopes of getting any action tonight. 

“Did you eat a Devil Fruit?” the swordsman wondered aloud because the other man had fallen into stunned silence.

Cynthia nodded excitedly. “Yes! I wandered away from a festival when I was very little and found a mysterious fruit in the forest. After taking a bite, I was able to find my way back to my parents because I could see the love between them like a physical thing—it’s sort of like an aura, I guess? Or maybe a mist that forms shapes in my mind? I’ve learned a lot about my powers since then, but it can still be difficult to put into words.”

“L-love...?” Sanji parroted, his face paler than the sand beneath their feet. 

“It’s been a long time since I saw two people with such an incredibly complex bond between them—it’s unlike any love that I’ve ever encountered, so I just had to meet you! I’m very sorry if it’s inconvenient,” Cynthia apologized profusely, seeming to realize that her words were having a negative impact on the blond who simply balked at her, unable to form an intelligent response.

“Um...that’s...probably because, well—it’s just that we—we’re nakama, r-right Zoro?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” he said tiredly, not interested in lying to someone who actually saw their relationship for what it was for once. In all honestly, he was sort of glad that a third-party had finally acknowledged what was going on between them since even they barely acknowledged it most of the time.

It wasn’t that Zoro wanted to shout it from the mountaintops or anything cheesy like that. He wanted to talk about it in privacy, but Sanji would have none of it. It was painfully ironic that the stranger who was outing them happened to be one of the most lovely, feminine creatures the cook had ever laid eyes on. 

Ironic and deeply traumatic, apparently. 

“I think he’s going catatonic. You should probably just drop the subject,” Zoro told her awkwardly. 

“I don’t understand? Did I say something wrong?” she asked desperately. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to—” 

“N-no, no, it’s perfectly alright, Cynthia-chan. This is my own baggage to sort through,” Sanji responded, wrenching himself out of catatonia at the female’s continued distress. “It’s just sort of...complicated.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” Zoro cut in, directing his question at the woman. “It’s none of your business—just because you ate a Devil Fruit doesn’t mean you need to go around analyzing people.”

“Don’t be fucking rude, Marimo! She just gave us gifts!”

“Yeah, gifts that we didn’t ask for.”

“...!”

“Don’t worry, Sanji-san, I’m not offended. I know how strange it must be to have someone speak to you this way when we’ve only just met, but...I couldn’t stop myself! The colors of your bond—they’re so potent and magnificent in my mind’s eye—I had to ask you about them,” she explained, going on in a rush. “I’m also able to see that there’s something...something terribly wrong creating a great separation between you. Perhaps it isn’t my place to say this, but I can feel it like an enormous chasm—it’s growing, and it makes me afraid for you...”

“A chasm?” Zoro repeated with minimal understanding. “I still don’t get what this has to do with you. Can’t you just look somewhere else?”

Sanji shot him an angry glare that seemed to say, “Why are you so fucking dense?” which he ignored. Out loud, the cook told her reassuringly, “There’s no need to be so moved on our account, dear Cynthia! I suppose you know who we are,” he guessed from the fact that she had referred to him by name despite the cook not returning her introduction, “so it shouldn’t concern you at all—really, Zoro and I are strong. Please don’t feel afraid for us.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded, reaching out to take one of the cook’s hands in her own. The stark contrast of his pale skin against the burnished copper of Cynthia’s reminded Zoro of his own tanned hands gripping the blond—something he rarely noticed because Sanji insisted on as much darkness as possible whenever they coupled. “I can help repair the chasm—please allow me to try!” the girl begged. 

There was a wildness in her features that made them unsure of how to respond to such strong belief. Zoro found that he was curious about the “chasm” Cynthia claimed to sense between them—if the distance were hypothetical, why was she so concerned about it growing? What was so terrible about that anyway? 

“Everything has its end,” Zoro replied firmly, surprising her. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old, but his words were met with the shocked innocence of a child who had just learned that their own parents would inevitably die.

“Love is everlasting,” she fired back with utter conviction. “There will always be some form of love in this world, but we must also fight to preserve it where we can. I’m truly sorry, this is a selfish request—completely selfish—but if it makes no difference to you whether your bond lasts or is destroyed, will you allow me to at least try using my power to save it?”  
  
“You keep talking about ‘love’ like you know what that even is,” Zoro snapped irritably. “Who says I love anybody?”

He heard Sanji inhale sharply at his side, but the cook said nothing to confirm or deny his own feelings on the matter. 

“You cannot lie to me anymore than you lie to yourself,” Cynthia told him rather forcefully. Frigg the bird also seemed to be watching with an air of superiority as if they both knew something that the pirates didn’t—or had access to a wealth of knowledge beyond their depths of understanding. It was quite unnerving.

“I’ll admit I’m struggling to follow what’s happening here,” Sanji cut in after finally collecting his thoughts somewhat. “What exactly are you asking to do to us?”

The desperation in Cynthia’s face seemed to melt away in response to his question. “I would only have to use my power once. You wouldn’t feel a thing! I’m not quite sure how it works, but whenever I’ve used it in the past, I was able to bring couples closer together. The effects are unpredictable, but I assure you it’s very safe. Sometimes, there are no obvious changes at all, but the relationships always improve for the better.”

Sanji’s desire to please the lady was visibly conflicting with his pride which demanded that he deny any involvement with the swordsman. “I’m sorry to have to contradict you, my sweet, but we are definitely not a couple!”

“And even if we were, we wouldn’t need you to fix our problems with whatever Devil Fruit magic you’ve got,” Zoro added to the cook’s chagrin.

Still, Cynthia was insistent. She turned again to the swordsman with her vaguely defined line of sight, somehow meeting his gaze dead-on. “Your fate will still be your own. All my power does is make things clearer—it might help you learn to communicate better, or to live more comfortably with a bond that cannot be broken—but at the end of the day, you will both make choices that will lead to an uncertain future...I am only humbly asking you to let me steer you towards a happy one.”

She released the cook’s hand to offer them a deep bow, lowering her head as she waited patiently for their answer. Zoro looked at Sanji who looked wretched—clearly it was an unnecessary risk to let this stranger mess with their minds, but the cook hated turning down a beautiful woman, especially if she was being genuine (which even Zoro, suspicious of every women’s motive, had concluded that she was.)

“Whatever,” the swordsman grumbled, setting down the packages he had been carrying with a light thump. “I’m getting hungry, Cook. Why don’t you hurry up and decide already so we can get some grub? I don’t care either way—as long as my fate is still my own.”

The strange thing was that Sanji seriously considered it. He didn’t wheedle and whine his way out of the situation with a flourish of apologies and then hustle them back to the ship; instead, he pondered Cynthia’s insane request to “save” their bond—whatever that meant—and came to a decision.

“I suppose there’s no harm in it. You said that it makes things better between people, right? Out of all of our crew-mates, the two of us could’ve used some psychic therapy even before we started—well, that’s beside the point—anyway, I can see how much you care, Cynthia-chan. I don’t mind if you give it a try since it’ll make you feel better!”

Zoro rolled his eyes again because the cook was already reverting to his old, simpering way of talking to beautiful females. He wondered if this so-called ability of hers could fix that annoying habit, but he doubted it. In fact, he was second-guessing the entire thing only to realize that it was too late—Cynthia had gently taken hold of each of their hands, bringing them together in a three-way embrace. 

Frigg chirped excitedly as if to emphasize the dramatic moment. Sanji blushed unexpectedly hard since they were standing in the middle of a public beach with various islanders wandering to and fro along the coast and roadside. Zoro tried to ignore the strangeness of them all joining hands like they were about to light some incense and sing a song while dancing in a circle. He didn’t feel particularly different when Cynthia smiled in relief and said, “It’s done.”

She released their hands, bowed deeply in gratitude (even Frigg dipped his head from his place nestled in her hairpiece), and promptly returned to her booth. Her bird friend could be seen hopping onto the table where he began consciously pecking at various containers. Cynthia would retrieve the desired beads in the same order and thread them onto a string.

For the first time, Zoro took notice of the beads that had been selected for his own bracelet—an alternating pattern of yellow ambers and deep-blue sapphires, like the colors of the cook’s hair and eyes respectively, along with a single, rainbow-tinted pearl. 

Sanji had shoved his hand into his pocket and was looking anywhere but at the swordsman. “Let’s get back to the ship,” he said suddenly, stamping out his cigarette. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Onigiri if you’ve got it, Cook.”

“Sure thing, Marimo.”


	2. Chapter 2

It became immediately obvious upon returning to the Sunny that Cynthia’s ability had affected them after all. 

“Hey Zoro, you’re finally back!” Luffy shouted as the two pirates climbed up the side rigging and hopped onto the deck. The younger man was currently observing Usopp’s new invention—a pea-sized bomb that could be rolled into a tiny crevice or under a door frame before expanding to its original explosive size. “Where’s Sanji?” the half-focused captain added conversationally.

“What do you mean? He’s right there,” Zoro said, gesturing to the other man at his side. 

Sanji looked at him like he was crazy, an expression that Luffy mirrored as he glanced up from the experimental bomb. At the same time that the captain said, “Huh? Where?” the cook said, “Who the fuck are you talking to, Marimo? And where the hell is everybody?”

Zoro’s mind blanched. He could clearly see at least four of their crewmates—Luffy and Usopp were crouching six feet away, Nami was watering her tangerine trees on the upper level, and Robin was reading in the gloom of the setting sun from an occupied deck-chair on Sanji’s right-hand side.

“Okay...something’s definitely wrong,” the swordsman muttered, utterly confused. “Cook, are you seriously saying that you can’t see anybody else on this deck besides the two of us?” he asked for clarification.

“Um, yes? What the hell, I thought we were scheduled to raise anchor ten-minutes ago—Nami-san will have our hides for being late, but I expected to get a fiery scolding from her as soon as we got back! Why are you looking at me like that, Zoro? Is there something on my face?” 

“Fuck—I think we made a mistake,” he lamented, still hardly able to believe it. As far as he could tell, Sanji had somehow become invisible to the rest of the crew. Usopp was similarly confused, us eyes passing over the cook’s form as though he were nothing but air to settle on Zoro instead. Even the cook’s shrill voice of panic didn’t seem to disturb Nami or Robin in their tasks.

“You mean with Cynthia? But I thought her power was only supposed to affect us, so what’s happened to everybody else?!” 

“They’re right here,” Zoro explained to the bewildered blond. “You...you can only see and hear me, is that right?”

“WHAT?! What the HELL are you talking about?! There’s nobody else here!” Sanji snapped frantically, not understanding the fact that he had disappeared from everyone else’s view except for Zoro’s and that he himself could only see the swordsman.

“Don’t yell at ME, I have no idea why this happened either!” he snapped, drawing the attention of the others. “I should never have agreed to it—of course you would let some chick fuck around with us, and now look at the result!”

“What are you shouting about down there? Where’s Sanji? I can see some dangerous weather heading this way, and there are a lot of high-rising reefs surrounding the bay. We have to lift anchor in the next hour, or else I won’t be able to safely navigate us out! Hurry up and restock the supplies, will you?” Nami called down, oblivious to the presence of the cook.

Zoro summarized this to Sanji who looked to be on the verge of tears. “No!!! My lovely Nami-swaaan, I’m right here!” he shouted back to her, but she had abandoned her watering can and was calmly heading over to see what all the commotion was about without so much as a glance his way. “R-Robin-chan?” he said pathetically, scanning the ship without locating her. 

The archaeologist glanced up from her book to respond only to the swordsman. “Did something terrible happen to the cook? I hope he hasn’t gotten lost...or kidnapped by marauders,” she speculated morbidly, returning to the page where she had left off. 

Sanji fell to his knees in the depths of despair. A cloud of gloom had formed over his head, and he seemed too depressed to move for the moment. When he instinctively pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one up, Luffy shouted, “AHH!!! That cigarette is flying—did Sanji become a ghost?! SANJI!!!!!” and threw himself bodily towards the phantom flame, tripping over his invisible crew-mate and tumbling into the railing. “What the heck?! I felt you, Sanji! Don’t worry, Chopper will fix you right away!”

In seconds, their captain had disappeared from the deck to hunt down the little reindeer and could be heard shouting about Sanji’s ghost halfway across the ship. The rest of their crewmates congregated to see what was going on and prepare to set sail, and Zoro had to be the one to break the news.

“We’re gonna have to depart on a tighter schedule than usual. Nami said that a bad storm is on its way, but this idiot met a suspicious woman who turned him invisible—he also can’t see or hear anyone besides me—so now we have to find her as soon as possible and have her reverse this before we can set-sail,” Zoro explained to seven very confused and skeptical faces. 

“Are you pulling our legs?” Franky inquired, “Because it’s a SUPER bad joke—I just spent twenty minutes re-filling the cola barrels below deck, and now we’ve gotta wait around to leave just before the weather rolls in? Didn’t one of those islanders at the bar say that storms can last for an entire week here? What if you don’t make it back in time?”

“Ugh, I can NOT stand another week in this place! The last storm was bad enough!” Nami complained. “Three entire days trekking around in the mud because YOU wanted to see if anyone lived in that abandoned castle on the hill!” she berated Luffy.

“Hey, don’t blame it all on ME! Didn’t you say there’d be treasure? We didn’t find squat! Just some stupid, dusty old ruins!”

“I thought it was rather quaint,” Robin added, sounding almost offended on behalf of the historical landmark. 

“I still don’t believe my eyes,” Brook said in a half-whisper, fanning his arm bones around in the general vicinity where Zoro had described Sanji’s true presence. The cook received a hard smack in the face when the skeleton man unexpectedly reached into his personal space. “Yo ho ho ho! Here he is!”

“Don’t even bother making a skull joke,” Zoro told him irritably. “Even with eyeballs it wouldn’t do you any good—this is Devil Fruit fuckery.”

“What the hell just hit me?!” Sanji growled, rubbing the spot where his crewmate’s hard hand had connected. “Hey—hey—! TELL ME WHO’S TOUCHING ME, ZORO!” the cook screeched as their nakama began crowing around the seemingly vacant spot to confirm the fact that the blond was indeed standing there on the deck.

“It’s Nami and Robin,” Zoro lied. 

“THAT’S TOO MANY HANDS! Franky, I will kick your hairy ASS if you don’t stop—NOT THE TIE!”

Someone tripped over someone else and there was a scuffle as everyone attempted to right themselves, having fallen over the cook just like Luffy. Their captain returned shortly with the doctor who, of course, had no medical explanation for what could be causing the strange phenomenon. He even insisted on having the cook follow him into the infirmary to perform a few tests until Nami reminded them of the time constraint and Zoro and Sanji decided to find Cynthia instead.

This proved to be challenging since the original spot where they had met her was empty due to the rapidly incoming storm—every shop and booth had closed down, all of the people had evacuated the beach, and there were only a few wanderers left to ask about a blind girl who sold beaded bracelets. Finally, one man was able to identify Cynthia as the daughter of a poor carpenter and his wife who lived on the outskirts of town, leaving them barely enough time to haul-ass halfway up a mountain where the modest little shack was located. 

Then, Zoro had to explain to Cynthia’s very irate parents why he (who appeared to be a lone, wanted pirate) was in desperate need of their young daughter’s assistance. The cook simply followed him like a shadow, too unnerved to be of any help at all—especially since he could no longer see any of the islanders or hear their voices. 

“How the hell didn’t you notice before that everyone on the beach suddenly vanished after Cynthia met us?!” he asked the cook while they were waiting in the sitting room for the woman’s father to fetch her. 

“I don’t know, okay, I was distracted! This whole day has been fucking bonkers!” Sanji told him, burying his head in his hands despairingly. In the corner of the room, Frigg was hopping about uncaged and making cooing sounds as if he could somehow sense that there was a man in need of soothing nearby. “At least I can still see and hear that damn bird,” he commented with a heavy sigh. “I’m sure Cynthia-chan can fix me.”

“Yeah, because her help was so great the first time,” Zoro replied sarcastically, causing the cook to shoot him a frosty glare just as the woman in question came down the stairs. 

“Maybe it was a mistake. I know she was only trying to help, but this is—”

“She’s here, Cook,” Zoro warned, shutting him up so that the swordsman could address their host.

“Zoro and Sanji, welcome to my home. Did you have a question about our encounter today? I apologize if you had trouble finding us—we like to live out of the way.”

“Eh?! You can see him?!” Zoro asked her excitedly, forgetting for the moment that the girl was blind. 

“Cynthia-chan, I can’t see your beautiful face!” Sanji lamented. She had been able to sense his presence before, of course, but this time there was no reaction to the sound of the cook’s voice. In fact, she and Sanji hadn’t exchanged any words after Cynthia had used her ability on them, and it was obvious that even she was deaf to the blond man (though it seemed she still knew that he was there).

“We came to find you because your ‘help’ ended up making my crewmate disappear, and he can’t hear anybody except me. Care to explain how that’s supposed to work?” Zoro asked her accusingly.

“Will you at least try not to be so aggressive, you brute?! If I can’t do the talking, I will put my foot in your goddamn mouth if you can’t be civil!” Sanji snapped threateningly. Zoro ignored him.

“Disappear? That’s...well, no, I’m sure that wouldn’t be very helpful, but there must be a reason for it.”

“What’s she saying, Marimo?”

“Shut up for a minute, will you? Sorry, I’m talking to this idiot,” he said, directing the latter part at Cynthia for clarity. “What possible reason could there be for him popping out of everyone’s visibility, and why would your stupid power make it so that I can still see other people but he can only see me?” Zoro asked uncomprehendingly. It just didn’t make sense, and the young woman wasn’t exactly heartbroken over what she had done which was already getting on the swordsman’s nerves. “We don’t really care about your explanation, anyway—just put him back to normal.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole! I happen to care greatly what she has to say.”

“I can’t,” Cynthia said quietly, seeming regretful after all. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to reverse my power other than...w-well...” she trailed off into nervous silence.

Zoro briefly considered this and decided to reassure her. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you or anything—or at least not until that’s the only available option.”

“ZORO!?” 

“Alright, alright, keep your panties on, Cook.” the swordsman said, addressing Cynthia again. “This is your fault, so can’t you tell us anything useful? Like how long your powers last, or what sort of effects they had on other people?”

“Hmm...this is certainly different than anything I’ve been able to do before, and I’m honestly not sure what to make of it,” she began contemplatively. “It seems to me like there are two different effects—your partner has become visible only to your eyes, and also, he has lost sight of all others. Why do you think that might be?”

“WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

Sanji did kick him this time (it was a pretty good gut-shot, too) while also shouting, “Watch your language! A lady’s ears shouldn’t have to suffer your shitty-mouth!”

“I really am sorry...” Cynthia told him sincerely. “I wish I could help more, but I don’t know anything about you or your partner’s relationship—”

“Stop calling him that—he’s my crewmate, that’s all.”

“What? What’s she calling me?! Tell me what she’s saying, stupid swordsman! I can’t follow this one-sided conversation at all!”

“Are you sure? Do you think that perhaps your inability to admit your feelings for one another could be part of the cause?” Cynthia asked him, making the swordsman’s ears turn red with embarrassment. 

“Look, it’s none of your business, lady!”

“I know that I’ve put you both in a very uncomfortable situation, but I’m confident about one thing...”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Zoro pressed, shoving Sanji onto the floor when he attempted to kick the swordsman again for his increasingly angry tone.

“It will all work out in the end—it always does. Even the man and woman who were facing inevitable death were able to leave this world with smiles on their faces, and they came to me on the brink of mental breakdown—illness can be a challenge in any relationship, let alone when the cause was infidelity.”

“Fucking hell, and what did you do to them?!”

“I gave them each the memories of the other’s experience—they lived their spouse’s sexual deviances and were able to understand why each of them had looked outside of their marriage in order to fill particular voids. Despite the severity of the disease, both of them were able to reconcile and forgive the other before their symptoms became unmanageable—I heard they even died holding hands.”

“How romantic,” Zoro said dully. He had trained himself not to think about the women who Sanji had sex with on principle, so the notion of experiencing such situations himself as some sort of mind-squatter in the cook’s memories was especially horrifying. 

“I don’t want to tell you how to live your lives, but if you want things to return to how they were before you met me then that’s probably impossible now,” Cynthia told him. “I believe in my powers—they never fail. I would suggest trying to determine why these particular effects have manifested, and why there is a discrepancy between your individual experiences.”

“Can’t you use smaller words or something?” he grouched. 

“Ask yourselves these questions...What do you feel for each other exactly? Why would those feelings cause Sanji to see only you? Why would either of you desire him to become invisible to others, and finally, what can you learn about each other because of these effects? If you can determine what’s separating the two of you—keeping you from being truly happy—then you may be able to reverse this all on your own.”

“So that chasm you mentioned...it’s still there?” Zoro inquired awkwardly because he knew that the cook was hanging on to his every word. “Will closing that ‘distance’ make him normal again?”

“Watch who you’re calling abnormal,” Sanji grumbled at his side (he had quietly re-seated himself on the couch and was being more patient since the swordsman had been able to manage his anger towards Cynthia somewhat). 

“I can’t say for sure, but there are definitely things preventing you both from accepting the love I sense between you...it really is quite spectacular—I wish I could show you how you really see him—and he you—deep down where the heart remains free from self-denial or social pressures. Too many people miss the chance to enjoy a great love because of petty worries or circumstances beyond their control...please, don’t give up!”

Zoro didn’t even know what to say—he was just glad that Sanji couldn’t hear any of this because the swordsman was embarrassed enough for the both of them, and he didn’t think that the cook could handle some of the implications of Cynthia’s words. The swordsman’s face was burning crimson, and he refused to look in the other man’s direction,

“Basically, the die has been cast, is that it? We need to gamble with the hands you’ve dealt us, and there’s no way to tell if the scoreboard is rigged?”

“You’re mixing a bunch of metaphors there, Marimo.”

“I wish I could be of more help, but the storm will be arriving shortly. You should get back to your ship before they sound the second warning alarm—you won’t be able to leave the bay unless you set-sail before then,” she advised them which Zoro relayed to the oblivious cook.

“Tell sweet Cynthia-chan that I forgive her! She’s been kind enough to welcome us into her home, and I—” 

“The cook says thanks—we’ll be on our way then.”

“Hey! Give her a proper goodbye for me, shitty-swordsman! We may never meet again, and she really didn’t mean to—”

“Tell it to Nami when we’re late again because of your friggin’ obsession with decorum! Let’s go before it’s too late—it took us fifteen minutes to hike up that mountainside.”

Zoro didn’t look back to see if the cook was following him. He showed himself out without another word and began a brisk walk back the way they had come. Sanji didn’t have a reason to stay behind, since he could neither see nor speak to Cynthia, and was shortly at the swordsman’s heels again like a talkative shadow. 

“The return route is downhill, so you definitely had the time to show some manners when leaving somebody else’s home—have you heard of those before?” Sanji asked him with dry sarcasm.

Zoro stopped unexpectedly in place, and the cook blew past him, coming to a screeching halt and turning to see why the swordsman had paused so suddenly. His feet left skid-marks in the dirt as his face set in confusion.

“Didn’t you just say that we were in a rush? What’s the hold-up?”

Zoro took a few seconds to think about how he wanted to phrase his next question because he thought it would be beneficial if the cook mulled it over on the way to the Sunny. Then, in a voice that was more calm and collected than he felt at all, the swordsman asked, “If you had the option to put things back to how they were—before we ever started this thing in the first place—and never touch me like that again, would you do it?”

Surprisingly, Sanji didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course not. Even hypothetically speaking, if ending it between us would solve this problem, I...” He hesitated for a few seconds, but to Zoro they felt like an eternity. “I wouldn’t want to change anything because of it. It’s all a part of me, you know?”

Goddammit if they weren’t both blushing like a bride on her wedding night.

“Okay. I was just checking—” 

“You can forget I ever said that, though.”

“And if I can’t?” Zoro asked him with a wry smile.

“Then I’ll kick you in the head—see if that’ll clear the slate.”

“First, let me tell you what Cynthia’s advice was—even though I’m not sure you’ll like it. Fixing this situation might require us to, you know, actually talk about our...feelings,” the swordsman explained, pronouncing the word with comical emphasis.

“Well, fuck. I was hoping we’d be done for the year.”

“...If we make it back in time, and the Sunny can set-sail without any issues, do you want to maybe meet in the crow's-nest to—?”

“Oh, fuck yes—I really need to let out some stress, and it’s not like there’s anyone else to entertain me right now,” Sanji answered with equal amounts of anticipation and bitterness. 

“Awesome. Top or bottom?”

“Surprise me.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After a vigorous round that left the cook feeling physically satisfied but still mentally discombobulated, the sea had finally calmed down in contrast to his raging emotions. They had barely made it out of the bay before the storm hit, but the Sunny was now out of the island’s radius of Grand Line weather. Sanji attempted to make dinner as usual, finding its preparation and plating unnaturally eerie because the entire ship seemed to him like a ghost town. 

Zoro didn’t normally sit around in the galley while the food was cooked, so there hadn’t been a single sound to hear or a person to see. It was incredibly strange not to be sure whether or not he was actually alone at any given time—it was only when someone bumped into him, or the swordsman was lumbering about, that Sanji had any relief from the constant silence.

This continued for a few days before the cook began realizing how lonely he was becoming without the normal presence of his crewmates whom he had come to view as family. Only being able to see and hear Zoro had become taxing, not because the swordsman was doing anything in particular to bother him (at least, not anymore than he had before), but because the cook was always in a state of panic about who might be around them.

He had no choice but to always maintain the act that they had perfected when in front of the crew. Even when the swordsman assured him that they were alone, Sanji couldn’t completely trust that Zoro wouldn’t make a mistake. Instead of two pairs of eyes and ears, he would have to leave it to the other man to warn him if someone were about to discover them which made him too uncomfortable to take part in any naughty activity. 

With the cook’s shitty luck, Zoro caught him masturbating in the storeroom one evening after their last night at Cynthia’s island because he was already starting to feel pent-up without sex. It could be weeks before they made it to another island for all he knew, and only then would he allow Zoro to touch him—once they were safely at a hotel or some other place that guaranteed absolute privacy. 

The cook didn’t realize it, but he was starting to get depressed. He wasn’t interacting with the swordsman much since it seemed like Zoro also felt uncomfortable acting as a sort of messenger owl between Sanji and the others. The blond tried writing notes to his lovely ladies, but this method was better for asking questions or giving directions rather than keeping up a good conversation. 

He slept most of the time and had bad dreams. Even cooking had lost most of its joy because even though he liked the act itself, and he knew instinctively that it was going to good use and would be appreciated by his crewmates, it just wasn’t the same. He couldn’t see the smiles on their faces or hear any of their praise—not that he needed to be validated. Sanji knew he was a great chef, but he couldn’t help missing the hustle and bustle of pirate life. 

The new routine he had fallen into was as follows (excluding his smoke breaks): Wake up early. Make breakfast. Do the inventory. Take a nap. Make lunch. Take another nap. Make dinner. Wash the dishes. Prep tomorrow’s meals. Finish various chores. Go to bed late. Repeat. 

The only changes he made to this routine was the occasional work-out alone in the crow’s nest when he felt like he had the energy to do so (and after making sure that the timing didn’t conflict with Zoro). The swordsman tried to include him in whatever was going on—he really did—but the cook felt like it was pointless. Nobody enjoyed talking to someone they couldn’t see because it made them feel uneasy, like talking to a ghost when you had no idea what they were saying back.

He wasn’t eating much, either. Sanji’s appetite had all but disappeared, though he wasn’t in any danger of becoming malnourished since he always made sure to get enough nutrients. Mostly, he just drank more wine, even skipping meals occasionally to fill himself up with enough liquor to numb the utter boredom and tediousness of it all. He also went to the extra effort of avoiding the crew whenever he was walking around with a glass of the stuff so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was essentially becoming an alcoholic.

Chopper, to the little doctor’s credit, had eventually noticed the shifting patterns in the cook’s schedule and even made a point of asking him (via pen and paper) if he was doing alright. For once, Sanji was thankful that his friends couldn’t see him because he actually became teary-eyed when the blue-nosed reindeer found his invisible leg with his hoof and wrote We’re here for you! You may not be able to see us, but we all love you, Sanji. Take better care of yourself, okay? And please come to me if you need anything at all! 

The cook had left the room immediately to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes and retire to his bunk. 

After a month of being at sea, only docking at two small and thoroughly uninteresting islands to pick up extra supplies, Zoro had apparently had enough of watching the cook wallow in his misery. 

“You know, we never even gave it an honest effort to figure out why Cynthia’s power did this to you...Are you sure you don’t want to try brainstorming? I know things have been rough, and you probably don’t want to hear this from me since I ended up with virtually no consequences, but—” 

“You’re right,” Sanji cut in tonelessly when the swordsman finally found the nerve to bring the subject up again after being shut-down time and time again, “I don’t want to hear it from you.”

“This hasn’t exactly been fun for me, either, Cook...I hate seeing you like this,” Zoro admitted sincerely, signalling that he believed they were currently alone on the deck. “I know you’ve been skipping meals—Chopper asked me to watch you because he says you sometimes leave your bowl next to Luffy when you walk around giving refills, and he’s been scarfing down the extra portions without realizing he was taking it away form you.”

“Who fucking cares—I’m the cook, aren’t I? I can do what I want in my own kitchen!” he snapped, angry that Zoro was trying to mother him as though he didn’t already know what it was like to starve.   
This was nothing. He just found his own cooking unappetizing sometimes, but he was still eating enough to get by just fine. It was his business and that shitty-marimo-bastard was shoving his nose where it didn’t belong! 

“I just want you to know that you’re not fooling me, Sanji. You’re not handling this well.”

“FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE! SINCE YOU HATE SEEING ME SO MUCH, WHY DON’T YOU PISS-OFF, HUH?!” he screamed at the top of his lungs—no need to worry about disturbing people who couldn’t hear him. 

“I didn’t say that—you’ve got to realize that this behaviour isn’t healthy. We should be trying to reverse this thing together instead of fighting about it. You’re shutting me out, and there’s no one else to help us.”

“It’s my own fault, isn’t it?” the cook growled around the cigarette clenched between his teeth. “That’s what you said yourself—I was the one who told Cynthia to do it even though we had no idea what would happen. You were just there to carry fucking packages—don’t pretend like this has anything to do with you anymore!”

“Of course it has something to do with me, shithead! You know why this really happened...things are worse between us than they ever were—you haven’t let me near you in ages, and I can’t help you if you keep avoiding the situation—”

“I DON’T NEED YOU, AND I DON’T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP!” Sanji told him in a rage of emotion. “Just leave me the hell alone—I’m done talking about it!” He seemed to be crumbling apart at the seems, and his words were losing volume until in a near-whisper, he repeated, “I don’t fucking need you,” before storming away into the galley. 

Zoro was at his wits end—he decided that it was time to sic Robin on the bastard.


	3. Chapter 3

Sanji planned to metaphorically chain himself to the kitchen counter for the remainder of the day because he didn’t want to accidentally see the shitty-swordsman’s face outside of mealtimes, but his stubborn brooding was quickly interrupted when someone entered the galley and carefully shut the door behind them. He didn’t register the floating notepad and pen until it was literally shoved under his nose as he was splashing away in the sink doing the dishes. 

Do you have time to share a cup of coffee? It was Robin-chan’s distinctive cursive writing, and his sour mood immediately soared at her request. 

Instead of his usual reply of, “Of course, my dear! I always have time for you!” he dried his hands before plucking the pen out of thin-air and adding his own handwriting below her note.

I need to start preparing dinner, but I would LOVE to make you a drink, Robin-chan! Allow me to serve you at the table.

Rather than taking a seat as he had expected, the lady delicately retrieved her pen and wrote, Forgive me, but I must insist that you join me....I miss you, Cook-san, which made Sanji’s heart stutter with joy and sadness in equal measure. He loved Robin, but he was nervous about interacting with the perceptive woman because she would be able to tell that he wasn’t himself (if she hadn’t noticed already which he considered highly unlikely.)

Trepidation aside, there was no way to refuse her without being rude, so he moved to quickly make their coffee, placing two mugs on the table next to opposite-facing chairs. Once the drinks were poured, and they were both seated in the eerie silence, Robin began to add words to her notepad.

I’m curious about what happened on that island. Will you tell me about it?

Sanji hesitated, then wrote, I can’t do that. I’m sorry. Please, don’t worry about it.

I’m not worried about it at all. I’m worried about you.

Really, Robin, I’m fine! Everything's fine, and I’m sure things will be back to normal soon. Bold-faced lies written in black ink.

She didn’t reply that time, but he could feel when one of her soft hands found his across the table, and she held it as tenderly as if he were her child, fingers brushing over the bracelet that he had received from the beautiful Cynthia. Before he could do anything, she slipped the bracelet off his wrist, making it visible to her eyes since it was no longer attached to the cook’s body. 

He tensed immediately—he was only wearing it because it was a gift from a lovely lady (this excuse was also given to Zoro the one time he had commented on it, having removed his bracelet the same day they had returned). Without being prompted, Robin began a lengthy paragraph on a new page of her notebook after a few moments of carefully turning the bracelet around in her hands:

I quite like this pattern. The alternating emeralds and obsidian are striking next to this lonely diamond. Did you know that many cultures consider emeralds to be extremely precious? One of the most famous examples was carved with the biblical quote, “Among those born of women there hath not arisen anyone greater," from Matthew 11:11 in reference to John the Baptist. Obsidian happens to be one of my personal favourites—it’s certainly the most famous types of volcanic glass, forged through the heat of lava as it erupts from the earth and quickly cools. Both emeralds and obsidian have a beautiful appearance, so they are often fashioned into decorative items such as this, but under the surface, they are much more brittle than they seem. They are vulnerable to breaks and fractures when pressure is applied, unlike diamond which catches the eye in a piece like this—diamonds have the highest hardness of any natural material and can conduct heat better than any other substance not made by man. I’m certain that whoever designed this was very careful in the selection process because each gemstone has been polished to perfection. The diamond itself is worth more than what you owe Nami in debts...if I were you, I’d keep it out of her sight ; ) Remember to always be grateful, Sanji-san. You have something extremely valuable right under your nose!

Despite being unable to see her face, it was as if Sanji could feel the power of Robin’s gaze piercing him through the cloak of invisibility. His face grew warmer as his eyes panned down the paper because the meanings conveyed by Cynthia’s (or Frigg’s?) choices of beads could only refer to one person. The color scheme of green, black, and white were of course a reflection of the swordsman’s typical attire, and the qualities of each gemstone—the “lonely diamond” connoting hardness and an ability to hold heat nestled next to the beautiful emeralds and quickly cooling obsidian which were also surprisingly tender upon second glance, as well as Robin’s implications of hidden, even more precious subjective qualities—they were all subtle indicators of Zoro’s personality.

Her quote had also struck him to the core, “Among those born of women there hath not arisen anyone greater," and the final sentence that acted as a veiled warning for him to be more appreciative of what he had. “Those born of women” could refer to either gender, yet Sanji knew that the “extremely valuable” thing under his nose was obviously supposed to be Zoro...but why was Robin writing these things? It could be a coincidence that she was reciting meanings which reminded him distinctly of the swordsman, but it could just as well be that his dear Robin-chan had figured them out!

Sanji’s brain wasn’t quite sure what to think or feel, but his stomach was more decisive and had turned to nervous nausea—exactly like a kaleidoscope of butterflies were fluttering inside his guts. While he was panicking internally about how to end the written conversation in a polite manner and escape the situation, Robin found his limp arm on the tabletop and slipped his bracelet back onto his wrist, giving him a gentle squeeze and taking his hand in hers. 

Neither of them said any more words. She held him until he had stopped shaking from the force of his feelings, and then kissed him on the cheek before exiting the room and leaving him to his tumultuous thoughts. Something about the entire exchange made him take a hard look at himself and his recent behaviour—he knew that he was in denial. He knew that Zoro had been right to hound him week after week about discussing the effects of Cynthia’s power, but it had been so easy to push everything away and focus on his duties on the crew...

Except, he knew now that he had been ignoring a part of his duty all along, taking it for granted that his nakama would support him to the end of the world. The swordsman, who was also one of his nakama, had been enduring the pain of watching Sanji lose himself to crushing sadness. Because the cook had chosen to isolate himself, Zoro had been forced to deal with the consequences of their relationship alone.

Why am I like this? he wondered despairingly. Why can’t I just admit that I want to make up with him? I fucking hate being without him, but I just can’t get over whatever the hell is holding me back...

Sanji didn’t know how long he sat there at the table, and he didn’t move until he realized that he had burned dinner. After cursing himself, scrubbing the ruined food from of all the pots and pans, restarting dinner from scratch, and angrily washing out the blackened dishes while he contemplated what a stubborn, idiotic, self-obsessed asshole he was, it had taken every ounce of his strength to go about serving his crewmates as usual.

The benefit of keeping up this charade was, of course, solely for Zoro who would see through his phony persona unless it were perfect. He didn’t want to burden the other man more than he already had. Sanji recognized how difficult and uncooperative he was being and made a conscious decision to put more effort into discovering the real reason for why he could no longer see or hear his nakama. 

Remember to always be grateful, Robin had written. Those words stuck in his head for the remainder of the day, and he doubted if he would ever forget the impact they had. Even though he couldn’t see the others, he could still see the swordsman, but Sanji had been treating this fact as a curse rather than a blessing...

He had always been able to see Zoro, yet he had been too blind to appreciate what that meant. It was up to the cook to change his perspective on the situation and remember why he had chosen that green-haired bastard to be his lover in the first place—in spite of every reservation and all notions of pride—Sanji knew that he had not made the wrong choice.

A good chef had an eye for the best ingredients, and the Strawhat’s swordsman was most definitely from the finest crop. 

It didn’t take as long for the cook to pull himself out of the depression as it had to fall into it. He didn’t feel lonely anymore, and he paid more attention to Zoro than he ever had in his life since there was nobody to catch him at it other than the man himself. Sanji had also given up on the idea that he could fix this alone. Just as Cynthia had said, the two of them were growing apart even though neither man wanted this...but why? What was causing the rift between them?

He had never considered having a “normal” relationship with Zoro (whatever that meant). It had been much easier to talk with their whole bodies rather than simply legs and swords. Now, there was no talking at all which seemed worse. The cook missed him like he would a limb, but unlike losing a leg or an arm, it might still be possible to undo the damage. 

* * *

The next day, he stopped Zoro in the hallway as they were crossing paths. “Oi,” he said casually, causing the swordsman’s neck to crane as he spun to meet the other man’s gaze. It had been so long since the blond had chosen to acknowledge him that legitimate surprise painted his face when he realized that Sanji was trying to get his attention. “What happened to your bracelet?” the blond added as if asking about the weather.

“Wha—? I...uh...it’s in my locker. Why do you want to know?” Zoro responded in a sort of daze. He was scrutinizing the cook’s face much too intensely for Sanji who was still getting used to speaking to the swordsman again. 

“Go put it on,” he instructed and then continued his stride in the direction of the lower decks. “Meet me in the galley before dinner—and don’t be late, Marimo.”

“E-eh?! But—?”

“If you ask me ‘why,’ I will conveniently forget to plate your portion,” Sanji threatened to which the swordsman simply snorted, having recovered from his earlier surprise in order to call the other man out.

“Bullshit—you’d feed me even if you had to go hungry yourself, Cook. Bleeding hearts like yours don’t tell very convincing lies when it comes to things you care about.”

I care about you, idiot, Sanji thought to himself. The marimo was smiling more brightly than he had in weeks—a real, honest-to-goodness smile—all because the cook had reverted to his more familiar self. 

“Just don’t forget Cynthia-chan’s lovely gift!” he snapped half-heartedly, smiling hard as he disappeared from Zoro’s view. The muscles felt extremely strange and foreign on his face which had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be happy for anyone’s sake, let alone his own. 

When Zoro slipped into the galley during the cook’s meal preparation, he was again wearing the bracelet that he had received from the gorgeous island maiden. It stood out because the swordsman rarely wore any sort of jewellery. Sanji noticed how the golden sheen of the ambers complimented his three earrings. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of hidden meaning the gemstones might hold for him—other than the bold choice of a single, old-fashioned pearl with it’s ever-shifting colors of the rainbow.

I’m as old-fashioned as they come, and there are so many different aspects to my personality that even I can’t pinpoint them half the time...he thought contemplatively. The yellow-ambers and sapphires were seemingly obvious choices given his appearance, but he didn’t know enough geology to harbor a guess as to their more subtle meanings. Yellow, blue, and white. He was curious to know what Robin would make of them, the wonderful and intelligent creature that she was, but he would rather have that conversation face-to-face.

“So what’s this about?” Zoro asked him immediately, sounding bored despite also being rather accusatory. “Did you manage to get that stick out of your ass, or do you need my help?”

“I’ll ignore that shitty comment because I’ve probably earned it with the way I’ve been acting lately.”

“Holy shit...” the swordsman muttered, dramatically lowering himself into a nearby chair. “You’re actually talking sense! It’s a miracle.”

“Alright, don’t push your luck. I don’t wanna start a fight—I only asked you in here to say...you know...sorry, or whatever.”

“Wow. That was almost a real apology.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, bastard,” Sanji told him, adding for good measure, “I really am sorry—I haven’t been fair to you.”

“No, you haven’t. What changed your mind?”

“Robin,” he answered truthfully, joining the swordsman at the table with an offering of warm sake to commemorate this highly unlikely event—Blackleg Sanji was admitting guilt to Roronoa Zoro’s actual face. It was probably a first.

“Despite her quirks, I gotta say, I respect how quickly that woman works,” he replied under his breath. In the quiet of the galley, the cook was able to pick it up and flashed the swordsman his typical glare.

“Robin isn’t quirky—she’s utterly brilliant! And what do you mean by she works quickly?” he inquired in confusion.

“Nothing...” Zoro said evasively, swigging sake to avoid a lengthier answer.

“You fucking told her to talk to me, didn’t you? How much did you tell her? Answer me, asshole!”

“Relax—I didn’t say anything you wouldn’t like, okay? I know how you get about that stuff. It’s not like she’s oblivious. Even if she can’t see you, she knew something bad was going on with you. Your nakama know when you aren’t yourself,” Zoro explained seriously. “Speak of the devils, it must already be time for dinner because—”

His sentence was cut off by the sound of the door slamming open as one of their rowdy crewmates, likely Luffy, barrelled into the dining room. Sanji could feel the wind of their captain blowing by him to sit in his chosen chair, followed by another person who accidentally chose the place where the cook was already seated, bumping into his side.

“Whoops, please excuse me, Sanji-san! I didn’t mean to jab you with my hip bones—yo ho ho ho ho ho!” Zoro repeated dryly since the cook was only hearing silence aside from the occasional thunk of the swordsman’s glass hitting the table. Unexpectedly, there was a modicum of humor in the green-haired man’s expression as he offered the cook a small grin and an even smaller wink.

For a moment, Sanji felt his old joy return to him and even allowed a brief laugh to escape himself in response to Zoro’s comparably cheery mood. The sake had helped them both to loosen up, and the cook almost felt like normal again despite the still eerie quietude. By the time his bright laughter had died away, the other man had turned his attention to someone else at the table with an incredulous, border-line hopeful expression.

“Really?! Are...are you sure, Nami?” he asked their navigator, adding, “Yeah, he was—just now.”

Sanji had tuned the swordsman’s words out because he had suddenly been filled with the genuine desire to serve his crewmates the food he had laboured to prepare. In contrast to the past month, the cook wanted to sit down and share a meal with his friends instead of simply serving them as per his duty. 

He was feeling better and better. 

The cook’s good mood was still riding high after dinner. He had spent nearly the entire time just watching Zoro from across the table—the swordsman was oblivious to his careful scrutiny, but Sanji was no longer oblivious to him. Zoro’s got a surprisingly handsome smile when he deigns to use it, he was thinking as the green-haired man finished the final spoonful on his plate with a satisfied grin. 

“Guess it’s my turn to wash, huh Curly-brow?” he commented, standing from his seat and making his way towards the sink, plate in hand.

Sanji was quite overcome with the desire to touch the swordsman in that moment—he really had been kind, in his own way, letting the cook go through his necessary breakdown in order to realize what a fool he was being.

“Wait a minute, Marimo. I forgot to give you this,” he said smoothly, catching Zoro by the back of his shirt and tugging him back a step. When he turned around in mild confusion to ask the cook what he was on about, Sanji kissed him.

It was a nice kiss—slow, steady, and gentler than what he usually offered given how volatile most of their interactions were. He expected the swordsman to be reasonably surprised since it was unusual both in timing and character for the blond to kiss him out of the blue like that, and in front of everyone else to boot, but he did not expect Zoro to gasp loudly, dropping the plate he was holding which smashed into pieces against the floorboards, nor was he prepared for the comical amount of shock and embarrassment that flashed across his face.

He quite literally turned the color of a tomato.

“Cook?! What the hell—sh-shit!” he sputtered, shaking Sanji by the shoulders. “WHY DID YOU JUST DO THAT, DUMBASS?! They—!” 

What followed was a sort of two-man sideshow from Sanji’s perspective as he witnessed what appeared to be their entire crew crowding around the pair of them in some sort of collected excitement. Zoro was being jostled around by the group, and so was the cook who felt various hands patting him on the back or squeezing him affectionately as he wiggled around trying to avoid it all. He didn’t know what to make of it until Zoro started whispering under his breath so that only Sanji could make out the words in his private bubble of silence.

“A few minutes ago, when you were laughing at the table, Nami was saying that she thought she heard you. She wasn’t sure about it because of how loud everyone was being, and I was planning to tell you later while we were doing the dishes, but—”

“She could hear me? What are you talking about—what’s going on?!” he asked as he was confusedly being passed from crewmate to crewmate for a series of unwanted invisible hugs.

“Just now, when you kissed me...I guess you sort of became visible for a moment. They...they saw it,” Zoro admitted in a low, apologetic tone. 

Sanji may as well have turned to stone. He felt his cheeks flush with heat and knew that he must be the same horrible shade of scarlet as the swordsman, every one of his muscles going rigid in the embrace of what could only be his rubbery captain. The cook viciously shoved the younger man away from him as his mind spiralled into despair. All the progress he felt like he had made instantly evaporated as the realization of what had just happened hit him...

It was too late to take the thoughtless action back. Every. Single. One of them—they had all witnessed him kissing Zoro!

The cook flew out of that fucking room like a bat out of hell.

Despite locking the door behind him as he escaped into the men’s dorm room and shouting half-hysterically for the impatient knocker outside to GO THE FUCK AWAY! it seemed like nothing would prevent the cook from being exposed even further as the coward that he knew he was.

Zoro quite literally smashed the door in, destroying part of the frame as well as the metal lock that Franky had skilfully installed after the last time one of them had broken it. 

Upon seeing Sanji’s pathetic, tear-streaked face and dodging most of the random objects being hurled at him as projectiles, the swordsman captured the other man in a tight embrace, stopping the cook’s heart—he was too overwhelmed by the fact that their secret was out to put up any sort of fight even though he desperately wanted to put his foot through something solid. 

The reality was that he wasn’t actually angry with anyone and had nowhere to direct his emotions besides Zoro who was squeezing the cook’s trembling frame against his own chest as though he could bury the blond inside himself. Sanji was so unbearably tired of it all, but the warmth of the swordsman’s strong arms around him were too comforting and calm-inducing for the cook to deny his feelings any longer. 

There’s no point in pretending now, he thought hopelessly. What’s done is done. I need to accept it, or I’ll never be able to see my nakama again, he realized tragically. Just SAY it, chicken-shit! Tell him the fucking truth!

Sanji made himself return the swordsman’s embrace, desperately clutching his broad shoulders with a stuttered gasp. It was completely dark except for the single porthole that cast a pale shadow into the room and the smallest sliver of light where Zoro had left the door hanging slightly on its hinges. He steeled himself and his beating heart.

“Marimo, I think...I probably love you,” he admitted, feeling an enormous weight lift off his shoulders as the long overdue words left his mouth. The swordsman slid his hand up Sanji’s back to curl his fingers into blond hair, holding him even closer and pressing a hard kiss against his neck just below the ear. 

“I probably love you too, Cook.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Of course, stupid. Do you need to see it in writing?”

Sanji pulled back from their embrace to give the other man a look of pure shock. “I didn’t know you were literate!” he said with feigned exaggeration. Zoro thumped him on the head and took the cook’s hand in his. 

“I’ll forgive you for being an asshole this one time because I want all of this to be over—now come on, everyone’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Sanji asked confusedly, but the swordsman avoided going into detail. 

In a rather cryptic tone, he shrugged and said, “I have a good feeling is all.”

They exited the room together and made their way back to the deck where everything was silent from Sanji’s perspective except for the sounds of his and Zoro’s shoes clacking against the floorboards. He didn’t let go of the swordsman’s hand until he was forced to by the sudden envelopment of his body by unseen people—his nakama.

Without prompting, they had gathered around him just as they had in the galley and were eagerly touching him with excited hands. Sanji looked to Zoro in confusion and saw his expression mirrored on the other man’s face.

“I figured they would be able to see you now, but you still can’t see them, huh?” he asked for clarification.

Sanji nodded as he received a lovely hug from Nami-san who had wrapped her arms around the blond’s neck and was hanging onto him with open affection.

“She says she missed you,” Zoro told him, and then reminded Nami, “You know that he’s been here the entire time, right?” There was a long pause. “Alright, fine, I’ll tell him! Give the guy some space, people. Cook, the crew would like to tell you that whatever changed a few minutes ago worked. Everyone can see and hear you just like before.”

“No fair! Why am I still unable to see my sweet Nami-san’s face?!” he lamented, pleased when he felt their navigator’s smooth hand patting his cheek reassuringly. His nakama took Zoro’s advice and backed off, leaving him with a final fleeting touch from Robin who offered her silent support with a small, consoling rub on his back.

Then it was back to business as usual except that Sanji felt immediately more included in the everyday activities now that the others could at least recognize his presence on the ship. It seemed that accepting his feelings for Zoro had removed part of Cynthia’s limitations on him, but there was obviously more work to be done. 

“I’ve done my part, shitty-swordsman,” he told the other man before falling asleep that night. “I think the rest is up to you, so hurry up and do some soul-searching or whatever and fix me! If I have to go another month like this, I might actually go crazy and decide to kill you in your sleep,” he warned dangerously.

“Somehow, I don’t think that would help,” he answered sarcastically, turning his back to the blond from his respective bunk. 

Sanji vaguely realized that it was odd for the swordsman to offer nothing else on the subject, but he was too excited about being seen again to push the issue—not after the day he’d just had. The cook was out like a light, leaving Zoro to mull over his own feelings among the obnoxious snores of their crewmates who made no impact on Sanji’s quality of sleep. If nothing else, he would miss how easy it was to drift off to the sounds of the ocean and the swordsman’s measured breathing beside him.


	4. Finale

Unsurprisingly, Zoro had a dream about the cook that night. He didn’t normally remember his dreams unless something considerable happened that stuck in his mind throughout the remainder of the day, but this dream was different because it pertained to the growing stress that had been haunting him recently.

He would never forget it until the day he died and possibly after.

It started with him fighting Mihawk—and winning. Zoro was on an unfamiliar island, and the details of the actual fight itself were hazy and unfocused, but he could _feel_ the swell of pride and accomplishment when the other man’s body hit the dirt surrounded in his own blood.

He had finally done it. He was the greatest swordsman—his dream had been completed, and he knew that somewhere, somehow, Kuina was looking down at him with just as much pride as he felt in that very moment.

Zoro lifted her sword into the air and took a deep, calming breath.

_What now?_ he wondered idly, and the answer was obvious. _Go back and tell the crew,_ he told himself, forcing his body to comply with his wishes. It hadn’t been an easy win, not by a long shot, and Zoro could feel that his wounds were great. His dream-vision was getting blurry as he attempted to make it back the way he had come, swords dripping blood as his feet carried him across the strange terrain.

He must have passed out because suddenly he was back on the Sunny with the glaring lights of the infirmary lamps piercing through his closed eyelids. The swordsman expected to open them and find their furry little doctor busying himself with putting the injured man back together again, but it was the cook instead who was seated at his bedside.

“You fucking did it, you crazy bastard!” he said immediately with a smile so big it was more blinding than the lights. “You beat Mihawk and lived to tell the tale,” the cook told him fondly. His happiness at finding the swordsman alive was evident in his expression, but he hadn’t moved to touch him as he usually would have when they were alone like this.

“How long was I gone?” Zoro asked, shifting into a seated position to observe his former lover whom he had left behind to finish the last task on his personal bucket list. Defeating Mihawk had always been something that the swordsman knew he would have to do alone, yet he was still sorry that Sanji hadn’t been there to witness the killing blow.

“A whole year, Marimo. No doubt you got lost a few times along the way, but true to fashion, you managed to get there in the end. Congrats,” Sanji said with genuine praise. “It’s sure been a while. We were even able to find the All Blue while you were off swinging your little sticks around.”

“Holy shit?! You did? What was it like?!”

The cook’s eyes drifted away from the swordsman’s face as he reminisced about fulfilling his own dream. “It was...beautiful—everything I’d ever imagined. That shitty old geezer even waited to kick-the-bucket until after word reached him that we’d found it. He died knowing that he was right all along,” Sanji explained with immeasurable pride.

“Zeff passed away? Sorry, Cook. I know he was like family to you.”

“It’s okay. We all have to die sometime, right? Besides, I’ve got plenty of family left.”

It was then that Zoro noticed the ring on the other man’s finger. Sanji’s left hand was sporting a shiny, golden band that could only mean one thing.

“Damn...was I really gone that long?” he muttered as the cook realized where his eyes were fixed.

“Yeah... _that_ was beautiful, too. I wish you could’ve been there,” Sanji told him quietly with a comparably sad smile. “Although, Luffy wouldn’t have been happy about giving up the best-man gig—he was surprisingly into it.”

“Sounds like a crazy wedding. I guess I should say ‘congrats’ as well,” the swordsman offered out of sheer politeness because his insides felt cold and hollow—he thought he would be prepared for something like this, but he wasn’t, and he couldn’t help but feel like his victory over Mihawk had been slightly soured by the realization that he had lost another important battle.

He hadn’t been able to hold on to Sanji when he’d left, and now it was too late to go back to how things were.

“So...what’s she like?” he heard himself asking to fill the silence that had fallen between them. Instant regret plagued him as the cook launched into his usual exaggerations of the female form. Zoro tuned it all out, focusing only on the look on Sanj’s face which was nothing short of pure happiness—something he had never been able to coax out of the other man himself. 

He wanted to cry, but that would have ruined the cook’s wonderful expression, and the last thing that the swordsman wanted to do was destroy this precious reunion between them. He felt as though he had missed the blond terribly during his travels, always wondering what kind of mischief he was getting himself into and whether or not the cook was also thinking about Zoro.

Clearly, Sanji had been better off without him, but a part of the swordsman had always known that to be the case.

He simply couldn’t offer the same things that a woman could.

“I’m happy for you, Cook,” he said sincerely despite the painful sinking of his heart inside his chest.

Zoro _was_ happy for him. He would be able to let go of their past and look towards a future that the two of them would never fully share. He wondered if the other man was going to have children and felt an odd sense of tranquility when he considered little mini-Sanji’s running around with curly eyebrows and fierce kicks. Hopefully, whoever he had married would make him a beautiful family.

“Thanks, Marimo. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll even whip up something for you to eat to help you recuperate,” Sanji told him kindly.

The cook always took care of him even when he didn’t ask, so it was Zoro’s turn to do his part and let the other man have his happy ending, wasn’t it?

He watched the blond’s retreating back with a distinct sense of clarity that followed him into his waking hours. When the swordsman woke up the following morning, nearly every part of his dream stuck with him as he watched the real Sanji flitting about the ship. There was still something missing—something they were doing wrong or that _he_ was doing wrong—which seemed to be preventing the cook from being seen by anyone besides the swordsman.

_Am I selfish?_ he wondered while observing the cook on his rounds to and from the supply room during breakfast prep. _Is this still happening to him because I’m unable to let him go? Why else would he only be able to see_ me? _Am I obsessed with being the centre of his attention or something?_

“Oi, Marimo! If you’re gonna fucking stare at me like that, why don’t you help me lug some shit from downstairs? Luffy wants pancakes—go grab me another two sacks of flour!” Sanji snapped at him, disappearing into the galley without waiting for a reply.

Zoro made his way below deck without complaining since he _had_ been staring at the cook and surprised to have been noticed. He was afraid that the other man would ask him why he was acting so reserved since part of Cynthia’s power had been reversed, and he wasn’t prepared to explain himself until he was sure what he should do.

After his dream, it was obvious to Zoro that the reason their crewmates still couldn’t see Sanji was because the swordsman didn’t want him to be seen. He was worried about the future of their relationship—convinced that it had to end at some point since they were both such different people with different aspirations in life—but his heart didn’t want to accept the fact that he might not have forever with the blond.

Eventually, he would have to let Sanji go. The cook would want to get on with his life someday—marry a nice girl, start a family, maybe even a restaurant of his own—whereas, Zoro was headed down an uncertain path of bloodshed and endless combat. Once he became the greatest swordsman (because he fully believed that someday he would defeat Mihawk in real life), there would be countless opponents aiming to steal that title from _him._ The life of a swordsman always ended the same way—just as he had lived by the sword, surely, he would die by it.

Did he really want to put Sanji through something like that? To see his lover murdered at the hands of some younger, upstart pirate with an equally powerful dream to be the greatest? Zoro would grow older and more feeble until somebody inevitably took the title from him. That may as well be set in stone.

Sanji’s future was uncertain in a different way—there were so many possibilities, and the fighting cook had a higher chance of becoming a success without having to give his life for it. Sure, he could kick some serious ass and would probably get into all sorts of trouble, but he also reserved his hands for feeding the hungry.

Sanji would die having helped countless others along the way—in contrast, who was Zoro living for? Kuina? His crew? Himself? The swordsman wasn’t sure, but he still believed that the cook was a better person who deserved a life filled with happiness. He was afraid of dooming the other man to walk alongside him when forever could only be a lifetime—and Zoro’s lifetime would likely be shorter than average.

_I have to decide,_ he thought to himself while staring absently at the stock of flour in the pantry. _Something like this can’t last between us_ — _I may as well accept it and let things come as they may. Don’t fight it, or better yet, end things before either of us gets any more attached. It’ll save us from having to do it later, won’t it?_

His solemn musings were suddenly interrupted by the cook’s stealthy entry into the pantry. He had followed the swordsman below deck when the green-haired man hadn’t returned in a timely manner with the supplies for breakfast. Arms encircled the swordsman from behind, derailing his train of thought as Sanji unexpectedly embraced him.

“You know,” he began, a telltale tone of lust creeping in, “I’m actually ahead of schedule today, and it’s been ages since we’ve done it...Do you wanna make a mess of me, shitty-swordsman?” he asked boldly, setting fire to Zoro’s insides with the sound of his deep, gravelly voice. 

It had been _so long_ since they had touched each other, what with the cook getting all squirrelly about them being caught and the swordsman’s pride keeping him from begging. His dick was already responding to Sanji’s open display of affection—it was extremely rare for the self-conscious cook to show his feelings in this way—but Zoro forced himself to remain dispassionate.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it right now. I thought I was here to help—or was the request for extra flour just a ploy to get me alone, pervert-cook?” he teased half-heartedly.

Sanji seemed legitimately offended. “You don’t _feel_ like it?” he repeated uncomprehendingly since the swordsman had literally never refused his advances before. “Is that a joke? I’ve been holding back for weeks, and I know you have been too, but I can’t stand it anymore—I’m fucking horny, and I’m tired of worrying about getting caught. No one comes in this room except for me anyway.”

“Believe me, I can stand it just fine. Try a little self-discipline once in a while, Cook. Nami was saying that we’ve probably entered the next island’s weather radius, so I’m sure we’ll dock in a few days and then you can find some floozy and get your dick wet, alright?” he said with feigned nonchalance.

Zoro bent down to pick up the bags of flour and swore that he could feel Sanji’s eyes trained on his ass. He tossed them over his shoulders and paused to appreciate the other man’s dumbfounded expression.

“Wha—since when do _you_ suggest that I get a little strange on the side, huh? I thought you hated it when I sleep around because you think you’ll end up with a disease or something. Did you forget that I literally _can’t see or hear anyone?_ How the hell is that even supposed to work?” he asked quite reasonably.

Amazingly, Zoro _had_ forgotten about that fact, but he still wasn’t comfortable fucking the cook when that damn dream was still on his mind. He imagined the bratty children that Sanji would possibly have in the future and knew that the only way he could be a part of their lives was to break things off with the blond as naturally as possible before their relationship ended itself.

Cynthia’s warning about the chasm splitting between them was probably some sort of analogy for the different courses of their lives. Repairing the chasm didn’t mean that they had to fall deeper in love and be together forever—that was unthinkable for them—rather, Zoro was sure they could repair that distance by solidifying their bonds as nakama so that nothing, not even ending their sexual relationship, could ruin the closeness that they shared.

He just didn’t know how to do it, especially after confessing how he truly felt.

Sanji saying that he thought he loved him had been one of the single greatest achievements in the swordsman’s life, and in the moment, he had reciprocated that sentiment. Except, he _knew_ that he was in love with the cook—desperately in love. There wasn’t another person on the entire planet who could make Zoro feel the way he felt about the blond, but he didn’t believe that it was the same for Sanji.

There were probably tons of woman who could make him just as happy if not more.

The cook would be alright without him.

“I’ve been thinking...” Zoro began as a non-sequitur to what the other man had been saying. “Maybe if I gave you permission, you know, to do that kind of thing with other people...I think you might be able to see and hear everyone again.”

“What the fuck?” Sanji said slowly. His eyes had turned positively murderous. “I don’t need your _permission_ to do anything!” he snapped immediately, taking the opportunity to plant his foot in the swordsman’s midsection while his arms were currently occupied by the bags of flour. The force of the kick knocked Zoro into the piles of produce, burying him momentarily until he was able to haphazardly crawl his way out from the heavy sacks with a string of curses.

“Jeez, I didn’t mean it like _that_ —I just thought it might help, okay? Don’t you want the freedom to be with whoever you want?”

“I—I don’t understand you, Zoro. Where the hell is this even coming from? We never even talked properly about Cynthia’s power, or why it could be affecting me like this, you just made an assumption after I said—what I said in the dorm room. Now you’re basically telling me to fuck off _one day_ after telling me that you love me, is that it?!”

Zoro stood up in silence before calmly explaining, “Loving someone doesn’t mean that you want them all to yourself. Maybe time apart would be good for us. It’s just a suggestion—I don’t understand it either.”

“Then _talk_ to me about it!” Sanji yelled impatiently. “You’re always making crazy decisions, and I don’t know what you’re thinking—do you really want me to go fuck someone else?”

“...”

“Fine!” the cook snapped after the swordsman’s measured silence. “Forget this shit—I’m leaving. Thanks to you, the crew will have to eat the leftovers from yesterday.”

“Eh? You mean you don’t need this flour?” Zoro clarified, gesturing to the ruined pile of mishandled bags.

Sanji threw his hands into the air with an enraged snarl and stomped out of the room in a huff. By the time the swordsman had made it above deck, the other man was nowhere to be seen.

Nami met him halfway to the galley with a strangely curious expression on her face.

“Were you just with Sanji-kun? What the heck happened?! I just saw him cross the deck and jump overboard—the Sunny is approaching the next island on the horizon, but it’s a _long_ way away even for Sanji-kun’s legs. I tried getting his attention, but I was all the way up in the crow’s nest, and he still can’t hear me.”

“He’s _swimming_ to that island?!” Zoro asked, shocked at the other man’s hasty decision.

“Seriously, did you two have some sort of lover’s spat? Go get him, you idiot!”

Zoro just glared at her. Then he reiterated the cook’s message that the crew would have to fend for themselves for food before diving into the ocean in pursuit of that insane bastard. He knew that it would take twice as long to swim there with his measly kicking power compared to Sanji’s, but at least it was impossible (even for him) to get lost with only two visible objects in sight—and one was the Sunny. He hoped he wouldn’t somehow get turned around and end up back where he started.

By the time he reached land, he was thoroughly exhausted and had absolutely zero idea where to start looking for the other man. Fortunately, the people on this island seemed normal enough, so he didn’t feel much concern over where he might have ended up, but he did worry about Sanji’s ability to avoid causing a stir due to the crowded streets. He imagined that it might be difficult for the blond to get around without bumping into whoever was walking in front of him.

_I wonder if it worked,_ the swordsman thought. _Maybe telling him that it was okay to see other people will make him visible again._ Then Zoro remembered that Nami hadn’t been able to get the cook’s attention as he was jumping ship, so likely it _hadn’t_ worked after all.

He didn’t know what to do. All he had ever wanted was to see Sanji smile, but with him disappearing from view, the cook wasn’t his usual self. His best smiles had never just been for Zoro...they were for everyone else—the crew, the ladies, the beggars on the street—never for the swordsman alone. Now that Zoro _did_ have Sanji essentially all to himself, he was realizing just how much he missed seeing the cook’s smile being appreciated by those around him. 

The swordsman had thought that the quickest way to fix this problem would be to give the blond the freedom to be happy _without_ Zoro, but he had been wrong. All he had done was chase the other man away, and it hadn’t worked. Sanji was right to be angry with him—they didn’t have the sort of relationship where either man needed permission from the other to be free.

They had an unspoken contract to be with each other, and that was all that mattered.

_I’m a fucking idiot!_ he realized despairingly. Sanji had been absolutely furious with him for suggesting that the blond sleep around because the swordsman had been insinuating that the cook was refraining from such acts for Zoro’s sake when in reality, Sanji had never needed permission from the other man to do as he liked—he had already made his choice long ago, and the swordsman may as well have spit in his face by suggesting he find someone else as a solution.

_I need to fix this,_ he thought desperately, unsure of exactly how to begin. _I can’t let him think that I don’t care or that I want us to be apart like this_ — _I_ never _want him to leave. It isn’t selfish because he doesn’t want me to leave either. We need each other..._

The cook and the swordsman.

Despite all their differences, Cynthia had been right. If they let their fears and insecurities about the future get the best of them then they _would_ end up growing apart, and the chasm between them would become irreparable. Nobody could predict the future, and they would never be able to know how things were going to turn out, but they could at least try to work together instead of trying to do everything by themselves.

Any weakness could become a strength if you knew how to wield it. _How could I forget that?_ Zoro wondered, cursing his self-riotousness for leading him down the wrong path. _My love for the cook will only make me stronger, and he isn’t weak enough to be daunted by the possibility of my death_ — _I’ve almost been killed time and time again, but he’s always been there supporting me._

For once, Zoro’s poor sense of direction brought him to the exact place where he needed to go. The swordsman was soaking wet, so he figured it would be best to wander into the sleaziest bar he could find—somewhere nobody would bother him about the smell of the sea sticking to his soggy, salt-stained clothes—and grab a warm beer before combing the streets for that over-dramatic blond.

By pure chance, his eyes locked onto Sanji’s damp back when he stepped into the bar. The cook was seated by himself a few feet from the bartender who was refilling another customer’s drink. He wasn’t drawing the attention of any of the patrons even though Zoro assumed the general public could see him again since the blond had a drink in his hand that he must have ordered.

The swordsman’s feet became rooted to the ground as he watched the figure of his lover hunch over the bar. He had never seen Sanji so depressed and devoid of life—the scene was heavily juxtaposed with their surroundings which would normally have claimed the social butterfly in a heartbeat. Zoro’s own heart skipped when two scantily clad women approached the blond man at the bar, leaning over his shoulders to whisper something enticing in his ears.

He was used to seeing women approach Sanji—what he was _not_ used to was seeing Sanji reject the advances of a female because that’s what he did. It was clear by his stiff posture and downturned face that he was not interested in speaking to the women, let alone leave with them as they probably intended. The cook studiously ignored them until the taller of the two huffed in annoyance and began dragging her friend away with a slight stomp in her step.

Zoro couldn’t believe it. Sight or no sight, Sanji could _sense_ a beautiful woman from a mile away, and he definitely knew that two had just stopped to chat with him—they were probably asking why he looked so sad and lonely and if he wanted to join them for a drink? Yet the cook was objectively rude to ignore them that way and obviously wasn’t at this bar to take the swordsman’s bad advice.

Something swelled inside his chest at that moment, and he sucked in a lungful of air while emptying his mind of all unnecessary thoughts. There was only one thing he needed to think about...

“Kiss me,” he said from across the room.

Although he spoke no louder than usual amidst the loud, electronic noise and flailing bodies, Sanji spun around on the barstool to lock gazes with the swordsman. “Zoro?! How dare you find me so quickly, dammit?” he mumbled without seeming to register the words. His face was flushed from drink even though he could only have been here for fifteen minutes or so (the cook was notoriously bad at holding his liquor), and his speech slurred just enough to support Zoro’s theory that he was slightly drunk.

“I lied to you before,” he said as the other man got up and shuffled towards him through the invisible crowd. “I’m sorry about that. Can I tell you what I really want?”

Sanji stopped in front of him, piercing Zoro with a frosty glare that only melted when the swordsman took a half-step closer. His hands automatically rose to catch the cook’s face in a soft embrace, causing the blond to flinch when fingers slipped into his hair like they only ever did in the dark.

“H-hey, what are you—?”

“I want you to kiss me, Sanji. Right now.” He could feel the blush spreading from the cook’s already hot cheeks to the ends of his ears as the color of his complexion deepened. “I want you to make everyone in this room watch.”

The blond swallowed thickly at the sound of the other man’s growled tone, his blue eye going wide. He gasped and covered Zoro’s hands with his own, pressing them over his ears like headphones.

“It’s... _loud_ ,” he said wondrously, and the swordsman grinned hard against the side of his face. “Everything sounds like a car crash—let’s get the fuck out of here, Marimo,” Sanji told him distractedly. The final spell appeared to have lifted, and Cynthia’s power was no longer in affect.

Zoro took this chance to swoop in and kiss the cook’s mouth, swallowing his next gasp which quickly turned into a moan of relief when the swordsman finally erased the space between them. Sanji’s hips crashed eagerly against his lower half, matching the rhythm of the music pounding through the air to his sensual movements. Heat flushed beneath clothes and skin wherever they touched, and their passion quickly burned hot enough to catch the eye of a few bystanders who looked away in mild embarrassment. 

Somebody whistled and they broke apart.

Sanji smiled and flipped off the person in the crowd who had made the appreciative sound. “This ain’t a show, asshole!” he snapped, grabbing hold of Zoro’s wrist and hastily dragging him away in a similar manner as the women from before. “What were you thinking—making a stupid spectacle like that, huh?”

The swordsman just laughed and drew the other man closer to his side as they retraced their path back to the Sunny, hand-in-hand. “I was thinking that I’m tired of keeping this a secret,” he said quietly with a purposeful squeeze of the other man’s fingers.

“I’m tired of fucking on hardwood floors.”

“Maybe now that the crew is onto us, we can get a futon for the spare room?”

“Really? You’re just gonna chase after me like a lost puppy and then try to set up house as soon as I take pity on you? How pathetic, Mr. Wannabe Strongest Swordsman.”

“You use insults to mask your feelings for me—have you noticed?”

“Shut up,” Sanji snapped half-heartedly. “You’re such a hypocrite.”

“You’re still holding my hand,” Zoro reminded him since they could now see the ship in the distance.

The cook’s grip tightened reflexively, and he hesitated long enough for the swordsman to wonder if it was still too soon to be openly parading around deck as a couple. Maybe it would make things awkward between them or their nakama. They weren’t the kind of men who enjoyed public displays of affection in the first place, so wouldn’t it be more awkward to suddenly change their dynamic?

“I can see your brain leaking out of your ears, Marimo—stop thinking before it all drains out.”

They had stopped walking a few yards from the dock. The sun was breaking over the horizon, casting the entire field in a golden glow that bathed them both in light and warmth. Sanji held up their entwined hands, each with one of Cynthia’s beaded bracelets glinting in the morning sunrise.

“I think I see you better now,” he told Zoro with a wistful smile.

“Yeah...I’m glad that blind chick opened your eyes for you.”

Sanji kicked the sensitive spot on the swordsman’s shin and shot him a dirty look. “You should be thanking her since you couldn’t possibly have convinced me to give up my pride without sweet Cynthia-chan’s help!”

“I could’ve done it,” Zoro muttered instantly despite his lingering doubts, “because I’ve always seen you clearly, Cook. I wanted you to have a happy future, but I didn’t trust myself when I should have just trusted in _you.”_

“Zoro, when we’re together...I feel like I have everything I need,” he said, sporting his most furious blush yet.

The swordsman found that hearing those words was enough to alleviate much of his remaining doubt. After all, Sanji was the kind of man who dreamed big. If he could see a future where they were together, then Zoro would picture it too.

“I’m glad that’s how you see me, Cook. Do you think you’ll watch until the end?”

“With my own two eyes—so you’d better make it a damn good finale.”

_ Fin. _

* Postcard received by Cynthia in the mail two weeks later (read via Frigg)

| 

_ありがとう_

_*thanks_

_―_ _Z &S_  
  
---  
  
**Author's Note:**

> I hope 2021 is going well for everyone! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this story a bit! 
> 
> Cheers and many thanks!!!


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